Blank
by FriendLey
Summary: Inhumans are born with writings on their body; the first words their soulmates say to them. Medusa has no such markings and she wonders if it means that she is not destined for anyone. Soulmate AU. Complete.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel's Inhumans or any of its characters used in this story. What is written here is for entertainment purposes only. No infringement is intended and no profits are being made from this fic.**

Inhumans are born with writings on their body; the first words their soulmates say to them.

Medusa has no such markings and her parents have her brought to the Genetic Council for testing.

The Council say that there is no doubt her lineage is that of an Inhuman's, her hair is proof of that. Medusa is simply a late bloomer and will receive her soulmark in time.

Medusa is 10 when the children taunt her about being unmarked.

She runs from their taunts and jeers, hiding her tears behind fiery, red hair.

She ends up slipping behind a door for refuge but finds that it is already occupied by a bewildered looking boy standing in what looks to be his bedroom.

Her thoughts fly to the rumors about the Hidden Prince of Atillan, about how his parents hid him because Terrigenesis transformed him into a monster.

Medusa cocks her head, forgetting her woes.

"You're not a monster," she says innocently and the boy's eyes widen, his left hand unconsciously rubbing his right arm.

The boy presses his lips and shakes his head, the only reply Medusa gets.

Medusa holds out her hand, walking over to him. "My name is Medusalith, but that's too big a name. You may call me Medusa."

The boy stares at her hand then at the tendril of hair waving at him.

Medusa giggles. "Go on. I don't bite. Well, sometimes my hair does but I'm learning how to control them."

After a few moments of deliberation, the boy takes her hand.

Medusa smiles and the boy finds himself returning it.

"What's your name?"

The boy takes a white board and writes his name down in clear fine letters. Blackagar Boltagon.

Medusa's eyes widen. "That's even more of a mouthful than my name!"

Blackagar laughs silently, hand clamped over his mouth.

He erases his name and writes something new.

 _Black Bolt._

Medusa immediately understands.

"Black Bolt." She tries rolling his shortened name out of her mouth, repeating it once or twice.

Black Bolt watches her, fascinated.

Eventually Medusa gets tired of his name and bluntly asks, "Why don't you talk? Don't you have a voice?"

Blackagar seems to think about it.

He writes on his board again. _My voice causes destruction._

Medusa gives him a comforting smile. "That's alright. I have no soulmark and you can't talk. We make quite a pair, don't we?"

Black Bolt smiles.

Medusa is almost 13 and her soulmark still has not appeared.

She bristles with envy at the children her age who proudly wear their marks.

Even Black Bolt has a mark. He told her himself using the sign language they invented.

She's asked to see it, to help him look for his soulmate.

"She's bound to be waiting for you outside this chamber," says Medusa, a glint in her eye, her hair floating playfully behind her. "And since you can't come out to look for her, I will!"

Black Bolt rolls his eyes good naturedly. They are both sitting on his bed, playing a game of chess. Ever since Medusa's stumbled in his chamber, she's been a constant visitor.

"Come on, Bolt! Don't you want to give me the experience of what it feels like to look for a soulmate?"

Bolt cocks his head, thinking, then he shakes his head.

Medusa groans and a tendril of hair pushes her friend off the bed

Medusa is 16 and her skin continues to be blank.

She's lost hope of ever getting her mark.

 _Late bloomer, my ass_ , she thinks.

She now takes its absence to mean that she is not destined for anyone.

She finds that she does not care.

She would rather be great and powerful than shackled to a soulmate.

Black Bolt signs at her not to give up. He's strangely optimistic and hopeful for someone who's been stuck in a sound-proof room all his life.

"I'm fine with it, Bolt. Really!"

Bolt gives her a deadpan stare.

"I am! Besides, at least there's no chance of me becoming like one of those simpering, mooning girls waiting for their soulmates to finally speak to them. That's just disgusting." Medusa's hair flicks off her shoulder.

She is 19 when Medusa finds herself becoming a simpering, mooning girl.

It would've been better if it was over her soulmate. But she doesn't have one. No. What made it far more complicated was that her feelings were for Black Bolt, a _marked_ inhuman, someone who already has a soulmate waiting for him.

The man, because he is no longer a boy and damn the Kree for giving him such an attractive physique, had finally been allowed to go outside his sound-proof chamber and Medusa—who was his self-appointed guide, who saw the wonder in his eyes as he beheld nature, who felt him thrive in running all over the city—actually fell in love with him.

Suddenly his smirks aren't boyish but tempting, the jut of his lips make her want to grab and kiss him, his firm body makes it impossible for Medusa to hit him without being overcome with the need to _feel_ him.

It is precisely because of these forbidden thoughts that Medusa has been avoiding him all week.

But Black Bolt finds her sitting over the ledge of her apartment's balcony.

Medusa looks out to the city, refusing to spare a glance at her best friend. If she doesn't see him sign to her, then she can avoid talking to him.

She feels a hand on her back and it breaks all her resolve. As much as Black Bolt communicates with her using sign language, his eyes, and his touch say just as much.

She looks at Black Bolt, at the confusion in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Medusa says. "I've been distant and I apologize."

 _Is something wrong?_ Black Bolt signs.

There's no use lying to a man as perceptive as Black Bolt, so Medusa nods.

 _Is it me?_ he gestures.

Medusa shakes her head, jumping off the ledge. "No, no. It's not you. It's me!" She scoffs. "God, I sound like a human." She sighs. "I'm... an anomaly."

Black Bolt frowns but his hands are still, patiently waiting for Medusa to explain.

She closes her eyes, her hair hanging limply from her head. "I like someone."

She misses the sad, shattered look in Black Bolt's eyes.

She looks down at her feet. "But he's not my soulmate. Because I don't have one," she bitterly adds under her breath. "He's marked and pursuing a marked Inhuman is forbidden. And I..." she folds her arms across her chest. "It would have been better had I been born without feelings too."

Bolt pulls her arms apart, taking her hands in his. Goosebumps erupt in Medusa's skin.

And then he lets go and she feels the loss keenly. But he is gesturing. _Want me to have a word with him?_

Medusa laughs at that. That has always been a joke between them. Whenever someone upset her, Black Bolt wouldn't offer to beat them up like what the other Inhumans would do, but rather he would offer to _talk_ to them.

She shakes her head. "Thank you, but talking to him would be pretty impossible."

Black Bolt arches a brow.

And Medusa doesn't know what came over her, what made her say it to his face, but she looks into his eyes, thinks 'what the hell', and admits, "because it's you... I like you."

His kiss surprises her.

She gasps but it doesn't last very long because his mouth covers hers.

She can hardly believe what's happening, hasn't even begun to process anything.

Her body reacts before her brain does and she's kissing him back.

She's actually kissing Black Bolt!

The thought brings her back to reality and she pushes Bolt away.

"What—why—you can't," is all she manages.

Bolt signs at her again. _Yes I can._

Medusa's about to reprimand him, to tell him that just because he's of royal blood doesn't mean he gets to skirt around the law but her words disappear from her mouth as she sees Black Bolt tugging up his sleeve.

Because right there on his right arm is his soulmark, the one she's always been curious about but something he's always kept private.

'You're not a monster' is written in pretty cursive letters along the length of his arm, the last word almost hitting the back of his elbow.

Medusa can hear her 10-year-old self saying the words.

"I..."

The smug look on Black Bolt's face makes her want to punch him but she's so happy.

 _Finally_! It all makes sense—why she's unmarked, why her skin is bare, why her soulmate's first words to her aren't on her body.

Because Black Bolt's never said a word to her. He can't. He won't.

And suddenly her being unmarked is not an anomaly. It's not a curse. Her blank body means that there's only one man she's destined to be with and it's the only man she's ever wanted.

Her hair wraps around Black Bolt and brings him flush against hers.

 _She's_ the one who kisses him this time, savors the feeling of his lips against hers, his hands through her hair, her hands on his glorious and _firm_ chest.

She lets herself enjoy it because this isn't one of her forbidden fantasies anymore.

Medusa is 20 when she marries her soulmate.

 **A/N: I can't stop writing them together.**


End file.
